


Collateral Damage

by duchess325



Series: The Baker Street Chronicles [8]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John and Mycroft Argue, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft IS the British Government, Spoilers s4e3 The Final Problem, The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 10:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10682991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchess325/pseuds/duchess325
Summary: Mycroft and John take Rosie to a safe house before they embark on the mission to Sherringford. Mycroft reveals new information about Sherlock's past.





	Collateral Damage

Collateral Damage

              John was packing a bag for Rosie, who was asleep in her crib next to his bed, stuffing toys and a dummy in amongst the clothes. A pack of nappies lay on the bed next to it. The doorbell rang, making John jump. He reached around for reassurance to feel the grip of his gun in his waistband before going to the front door After the revelations regarding Eurus and the explosion at Baker Street, he was on edge, and rightly so. As far as they knew, Eurus had already killed at least one person, a therapist, to try to get to Sherlock. And in addition to blowing up 221B, endangering the lives of he, Sherlock, Mycroft, and Mrs. Hudson (who was still in hospital), Eurus had also posed as the therapist in order to get close to John and shot him with a tranquilizer dart.

              So, it was with due caution that John approached the door with his hand ready to pull out his gun. He approached from the side and discreetly peered through the window to the front stoop. There stood Mycroft Holmes, and John let out a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding. John opened the door.

              “Are you ready?” Mycroft asked him.

              “Yeah,” John answered, “I’ll go get her things.”

              A few minutes later John was buckling Rosie’s car seat into the back of a black sedan as two men in black suits stood on either side with their backs to the car, watching the neighborhood around them.

              John went back inside the flat where Mycroft stood anxiously over Rosie’s crib.

              “Are we ready then?” he asked John.

              John responded with a quick nod and crossed over to pick up Rosie, who still slept peacefully.

              Once they were in the back of the car, Rosie strapped into the car seat between them, Mycroft spoke.

              “I called Molly this morning to try to convince her to come to the safe house with William.”

              “Do you think they’re in danger?” John asked with a concerned look on his face.

              “I think that anyone close to Sherlock is in danger. That is why I have posted undercover agents in the hospital where Mrs. Hudson is recovering.”

              “So, are they going? Molly and William?”

              “She is taking William, but Molly refuses to stay.”

              “Did you tell her what’s going on? Did you tell her about Eurus?”

              “No,” Mycroft said simply.

              “Why not?” John asked, the frustration evident in his voice.

              “Do you think she would have believed me if I had told her that Sherlock and I have a mentally unstable, secret sister who may or may not try to harm she and her child?”

              John looked at Mycroft incredulously. “Well, with you two she’d probably believe anything. What did you tell her then, Mycroft?”

              “I told her that you and Sherlock were on a case, and as a precaution I wanted them to go to the safe house.”

              “Oh, I don’t see why that didn’t go over with Molly. ‘Sorry, Miss Hooper, but you’re going to have to go into hiding. I can’t tell you why but Sherlock is involved so that’s all you need to know. Oh, and did I mention that I am the bloody British government?’”

              Mycroft sighed, “What would you have me tell her, that they might die because the people who I entrusted to monitor my sister have allowed her to roam freely and murder people?”

              “Why wouldn’t Molly go? Why is she taking William but not staying herself?” John asked.

              “She said if you and Sherlock were in trouble then she wanted to help. I told her there was nothing she could do, but she was quite headstrong.”

              “Mycroft, you should have told her the truth!” John whispered angrily, trying not to wake Rosie. “We can’t leave her there, exposed. She is not collateral damage in your little game.”

              “I have not left her exposed!” Mycroft hissed back. “There are agents on her street as well. I couldn’t just leave her unprotected. As much as I sometimes hate to admit it, I am well aware of how fond my brother is of Miss Hooper. I think, though, that this is a perfect example of why it would be dangerous for Sherlock, or anyone outside of the small circle of people who already know, to find out about William and the fact that he is his father. Surely you can see now how easily it would be for someone such as Eurus or Moriarty to pluck William up and do something unthinkable.”

              John shook his head. “You are something else. This is exactly the reason why Sherlock deserves to know, needs to know. You know he would do everything in his power to protect Molly and that child. He nearly killed himself to save me. He threw a CIA agent out of the window of our flat, repeatedly, because the agent hurt Mrs. Hudson. He killed Magnussen to protect Mary. He faked his own death to protect his closest friends. He loves Molly. He’d protect her and William.”

              Mycroft looked at John with surprise on his face. “He loves Molly?”

              “Well, he’s never said as much, but I have my reasons to think so. It would be good for him, a relationship. I told him as much just a few weeks ago. But I had it wrong, his type. I see now he needs someone like Molly. Specifically, he needs Molly. Molly and William.”

              John turned to look out the window. The car was quiet. It was Mycroft who finally broke the silence.

              “I suppose that when all of this has blown over, I would be willing to broach the subject with Molly. Perhaps, sometime in the future it may be more felicitous to involve Sherlock in William’s life.”

              “First of all, Mycroft, this situation with Eurus is hardly something that is just going to ‘blow over.’ Second of all, it is hardly up to you whether or not Molly tells Sherlock or how much he is involved in his son’s life. Molly has been wanting to tell him since he returned, but you always persuade her that it is not the time or that he can’t handle it. I don’t know if you have noticed, but your brother is not the same person that he was when I met him. In the past few years, especially since he returned, he has grown so much. He has connections with people now that he never could have or would have forged when I first came to Baker Street.”

              “Yes, I know,” Mycroft said quietly. “I am grateful to you, John, for the friendship that you have forged with Sherlock. It has done wonders for him. I knew when I picked you that you were a good match for my brother.”

              “I’m sorry. What? What do you mean, when you picked me? You didn’t pick me. I met Sherlock through a mutual acquaintance.”

              Mycroft smiled, “Yes that was quite fortuitous, wasn’t it, that you would happen to run into Mike Stamford on the very day that Sherlock did and that you both mentioned to him that you needed a flatmate. But, do you remember our first meeting, John? How I knew without having met you that you saw a therapist who said you have trust issues…”

              “And that I was haunted by the war. I don’t understand. How—why did you--”

              “What did Sherlock tell you when you moved into Baker Street? Did he say anything about why he needed a flatmate?”

              “Sure. He needed someone to help pay the rent. It’s central London; rent is high.”

              “Yes, it is. And my dear brother wears custom made suits, designer shirts, and Italian leather shoes. He takes a taxi instead of public transport and has the latest smartphone and laptop computer. Does my brother seem the type that can’t afford a discounted flat in central London?” He paused for a moment. “Let me put it another way, how many times did you pay Sherlock for rent?”

              “Once I got him to start taking payments from clients for cases he would just say, ‘I’ll pay the rent out of this check,’ and then give me a portion of whatever was left over for my assistance.”

              “Then you may want to talk to him about back payment,” Mycroft said with a smile. “Sherlock can live comfortably thanks to our family fortune. It’s a small fortune, but Sherlock is given a healthy allowance, which includes the rent on his flat at Baker Street.

              “John, as you know, Sherlock is an addict. He may try to spin it however he wants, but it is what it is. When my brother met you, he was just out of a rehab program. I found him on the street high and out of his mind. He had not paid rent for three months, the electric had been turned off, and the flat was in a deplorable state. His landlord packed up everything worth salvaging and set it on the curb, where I found my dear brother a day later.

              “I have Lasting Power of Attorney over my little brother. It was a step necessary for me to take a long time ago. As such, I had him placed in drug rehab—not for the first time—and the conditions of his release stipulated that his rent would be paid directly to Mrs. Hudson, his allowance would decrease, and that he would find a flatmate.”

              John sat back in his seat. “That’s why his stuff was already moved in when we went to see the flat together. God, I had no idea. He never told me.”

              “Yes, I suppose he wouldn’t.”   

              “So, you vetted me. But, how?”

              “John, please, as you and Sherlock are fond of saying, I am the British government.”

              “Right, of course. But, Sherlock…”

              “Doesn’t know. If you don’t mind, I’d like him to continue to believe that it was merely a chance meeting. He would have refused my help otherwise, but I needed to know that he would be okay without me.”

              “And, when you offered me money to spy on him?” John asked.

              “I was testing you, John. But, I knew when you turned me down that you were the right man, and a good man, and that my little brother would be…all right.”

              John was still trying to process what Mycroft had just told him when they pulled up to a flat in west London. It looked like most of the other flats on the street, with flower boxes on the windows and hedges along the front.

              John put Rosie’s bag on his shoulder and started to unbuckle her car seat. Mycroft was already out of the car.

              “Oy! Do you mind grabbing the pack of nappies?”

              Mycroft rolled his eyes and reached back into the car. John passed the nappies to him.

              “Let’s do this quickly, please,” Mycroft said.

              John carried Rosie, who was just stirring from her nap, in her car seat up the front steps. Mycroft buzzed the flat with the bamboo handle of his ever-present umbrella. John knew from recent experience that this particular umbrella not only concealed a rapier, but the handle also concealed a small hand gun.

              A woman’s voice answered the buzzer. “May I help you?”

              “Yes, my car seems to have a flat tyre,” Mycroft replied. “May I borrow a wheel brace?”

              “I don’t have a wheel brace, but I can call my mechanic,” she replied.

              “That will do,” Mycroft said.

              The door clicked open and a woman in her mid-thirties met them on the other side. She was dressed in plain black slacks and jumper, and seemed very unimposing, but then she shifted her stance and John could see the handgun concealed in the side of her waistband.

              “Is this Rosie, then?” she asked.

              “Yes, this is Rosie,” John answered. “She’s my daughter. She’s all I’ve got,” he told her, choking back a small sob.

              She gave John a sympathetic smile as he unbuckled his daughter and held her tightly in his arms.

              “Daddy will be back soon, Rosie. I’ll be back soon. I love you so much. I’ll be back soon.”

              “My name is Meredith,” the lady said. We will keep her safe here, I promise.” Then to Mycroft she said, “The little boy, William, is here, Mr. Holmes. He’s upstairs in the back room.”

              “Good,” Mycroft said to her. Then he added, “And please keep them both safe. They’re family.”

              John was astonished to hear Mycroft say that, but then he smiled a tiny smile as he gave Rosie one last kiss and handed her over to Meredith.

 


End file.
